


Hott Yoga

by CLeighWrites



Series: Destiel Yoga AU [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bisexual Dean Winchester, Castiel in Leggings, Hot Yoga, M/M, Meet-Cute, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Sarcastic Dean Winchester, Yoga Instructor Castiel (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 23:08:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21842734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CLeighWrites/pseuds/CLeighWrites
Summary: Sam drags Dean to a hot yoga class, and Dean ends up liking it a lot more than he thought he would!
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Destiel Yoga AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1609681
Comments: 6
Kudos: 67





	Hott Yoga

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DragonSgotenks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonSgotenks/gifts).



> This fic was inspired by [this tweet](https://twitter.com/dragonSgotenks/status/1197554882749747200?s=19)!! It was too great to not write!! There will be more to come!

There were quite a few things that Sam did that Dean just could not get in to. Listening to music dated post-1978 (with _very_ few exceptions), waking up at ungodly hours of the morning, even _trying_ to eat turkey bacon, insisting that garnish was a food group, running (not even _from_ anything), and yoga. 

That being said, there were a few little brother tricks Sam held up his sleeve for when he really, _really_ wanted Dean to do something. Today, what he really, _really_ wanted was for Dean to go to a hot yoga class with him. Dean had adamantly refused until Sam had _volunteered_ to do the dishes _and_ laundry for two weeks. How bad could a little stretching be? 

That was how Dean found himself in sweatpants and a wife-beater, sweating his ass off in a 100-degree room, trying to bend in ways his body was _not_ built to bend in. The only thing that was keeping him there was their instructor. 

He was a tall, well-built man with relatively short sweat-spiked black hair. He had broad shoulders that led down to slightly slimmer hips. He was not a small man; the fact emphasized by the leggings he was wearing. 

Yes, the man that was talking them through the poses was wearing _leggings_ and a tank top that was about five sizes too small for him, but that was somewhat excusable in this heat. The leggings, that Dean was _not_ staring at while the man bent into another pose to grab his ankles, had angel wings on them. Big, giant wings that spread across his tight, round ass, expanded around his thick muscular thighs and trailed down his calves. 

Dean was feeling flushed, from the humidity, obviously, and the exertion of trying to contort himself like a human-pretzel. Sam snickering beside him caught him off guard while he was attempting to be a tree; he lost his footing and slipped on his sweat covered mat when he tried to regain his balance. After he shot a deadly glare at his brother, he turned to see a hand in his face, presumably there to help him up.

When he looked past the very strong and capable-looking offering, he found strikingly blue eyes laughing at him. They belonged to the angel-winged-ass yoga instructor. Not that he needed the assistance, he grabbed his hand and hauled himself into a standing position then swiped the sweat from his brow. 

“May I?” the man asked.

“Huh?” Dean was not distracted by the sweat pooled above the man’s collarbones, nor the seemingly perfect way his hair happened to swoop.

The man laughed and dipped his chin before looking him in the eye, not something very many people were comfortable doing. “I can help you with this pose, if you’d like. If it’s okay to touch you.” He nodded toward Dean’s entire body with a seductive quirk of his eyebrow.

Dean couldn’t think of anything he’d like more than to have this man’s hands on him, so he just nodded and put his arms up over his head. The man walked around behind him and put one hand on his lower back, then grabbed his shoulders and maneuvered him into a more upright position. After he was satisfied with that, he wrapped a hand around his left hip then put his other hand on Dean’s right thigh, gently guiding his leg to turn out while holding his hips still.

With his mind in a fog, Dean stood there with his right foot on his left calf and his arms raised above his head, thanking whoever would listen to his pleas that no one was paying him enough attention to see the massive hard-on he was sporting for their yoga instructor. The man kept ahold of his thighs and put his mouth tight against Dean's ear and told him to take in deep breaths and to look skyward. He was able to inhale twice, but when he went to look up, he began to lose his balance again. 

He only wobbled a little bit before he abandoned the pose altogether and stomped his foot down. Sammy would just have to find another yoga buddy because Dean was not cut out for this hippy, wanna-be workout shit. He got all the workout he needed hoisting transmissions into vehicles at work. He had planned to apologize to the super-hot hot yoga man and duck out early, but the second he turned around, the man’s smile short-circuited what was left of Dean’s brain.

“It's not as easy as it looks; is it? With some practice, you’ll get it.” The man’s smile was so genuine Dean really had no choice but to agree with what he hoped was a self-assured grin. The man smiled a little wider then announced to the class, “Let’s finish this up in lotus pose.” 

It was then that Dean realized that one of the man’s hands was still on his hip. He applied a little pressure, so Dean got the hint to sit down along with the rest of the class; everyone else seemed to know what a lotus was. After a quick glance around, carefully avoiding the angel wing-framed bulge in front of his face, he sat cross-legged and put his hands on his knees.

Sammy snorted beside him, and when Dean turned to shoot him a look he felt hands on his, flipping his palms to face up. 

“Palms up and put your fingers together,” the blue-eyed angel man corrected him. “And, if you can, tuck your feet in above your legs, like Donna, over there.” He motioned to a cute blonde woman who kept her eyes closed, but smiled a dimpled grin at the mention of her name.

Dean tried his best to get his feet up, but only managed to angle them so that his toes were favoring upward. After an approving nod, the man went back to the head of the class and assumed the same position with ease, then motioned for Dean to take a deep breath and close his eyes. 

Considering that he was sweating his literal balls off, and was sporting an almost painful boner at being manhandled by this gorgeous legging-clad dude, Dean was the most relaxed he’d been in a long time. Within moments his body was no longer sore, he was hardly registering the sweat dripping from his face, and he felt… peaceful. 

Far too soon, the man announced the end of the class with the sound of a small gong, and everyone fell into hushed chatter. Plans for lunch, after showering, or meeting up at some other time or for some other class were being made. Sam offered Dean his hand to stand, which he begrudgingly accepted, trying not to moan as he extracted himself from the floor. 

“See,” Sammy smiled down at him, “that wasn’t so bad, was it?” 

Dean chanced a glance over his shoulder to where the yoga-man was talking with the cute girl, Donna. “Yeah, I can see why you come here.”

Sam laughed and made a face that Dean knew only preceded an observation he knew he wasn’t going to like. “I thought you might find something here worth coming back for.” Dean just nodded and grabbed a towel to wipe his face off. Sam leaned in and whispered, “He’s single, I checked.”

Dean balked for a moment before Sam leveled his stupid, little brother, you-can’t-lie-to-me face, then he huffed. “Whatever, Jolly Green Giant, get out of here, you’re cramping my style.”

He shot his brother a smirk and a wink, then made his way over to intrude on what he was sure was a conversation about the newest juice cleanse. Smiling at both of them he waited patiently for an opening in the conversation to interject an apology.

“Sorry to interrupt; I just wanted to say thanks… for, um, helping me out earlier. Yoga isn’t really my thing.” Dean laughed, and the woman excused herself to the showers.

With a pointed look at the other man, she left.

“That’s what I’m here for…?” 

“Dean. And you are?”

“Castiel,” he responded, offering his hand once again.

Dean shook his hand like his father had taught him, thumbs shoved together, fingers gripped tight, but not squeezed. Castiel was only caught off guard for a moment before returning his firm handshake; _commendable_. They stood there for a moment, definitely _not_ holding hands and staring into each other’s souls.

“I’m going to need that back, at some point.” Cas, which was what Dean had resolved to call him, joked.

“Oh, yeah.” Dean laughed and took his hand out of Cas’s grasp.

If Cas could stop smiling at him like he was, Dean could probably have said something really cool, maybe asked him out for drinks sometime. As it was, all Dean could think about was not looking down at the bulge in those God-forsaken, not-so-angelic, leggings. 

“So, will I be seeing you next week?” Cas laughed at what must have been the face Dean was trying not to make, then added, “for another class, I mean.”

Dean ran a hand along the back of his neck and answered honestly. “I’m still not sure yoga is the thing for me, especially if it involves this much sweating!” 

“That’s just for the hot yoga class… if you’d prefer, I do have a standard class on Tuesdays and Thursdays; same time.”

How could Dean say no to this man, especially when he’s looking at him like _that_? “That sounds awesome.”

“Does it?” Cas was asking honestly, _who is this man_? Dean decided right then and there that he would find out who this attractive, strange man was.

“Well, I mean. Sure.” There was a slight pause where Dean probably should have resolved to stop talking. “Don’t knock it till you try it, right?”

As Dean rolled his eyes and mentally chastised himself, Cas laughed. A full-bodied, eye-crinkling laugh that Dean noticed showed the gums over his top teeth; he was terrifyingly attractive, in a dorky, unconventional sort of way. Dean was so screwed, hopefully literally.

“How would you like to grab a smoothie with me?” He was still laughing, which made Dean feel equally off balance and a little giddy.

He blinked a couple of times to bide his time while he processed what exactly Cas was asking him. “Uh, sure.”

“Great. Meet you out front in fifteen minutes? Gotta wash all this sweat off.” He motioned to his entire body.

As if it were beyond his control, Dean openly checked the man out, marveling once again at his thick thighs, somehow encased in those damn feathered tights. He bit his bottom lip to keep from voicing his inner thoughts and shook his head, laughing at himself.

“Or maybe, I’ll just stay in this.” The heat behind Cas’s eyes left little room for interpretation.

“Or…,” Dean could not believe he was about to say this, “maybe I could help you out of those.” 

Dean took a shot and rested a finger on the waistband of the leggings. They were soft and warm and pulled taut over Cas’s hipbones. The too small, to call it what it was, crop-top, perfectly showcased that well-shaped ‘V’ that dipped teasingly into his bottoms.

“I would like that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Don't be shy, let me know what you think!


End file.
